Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Raising Kids in a Post-Modern World
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Seven Year Old Faith
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Confessions of a Recovering Charismatic
I am not likely to forget the conversation for a long time. We had been traveling out west and visiting some friends we hadn't seen since our east-coast days. She was spilling over with enthusiasm after visiting a religious service north of the border. For me, it was the final nail in a coffin I had been assembling for some time. It took all of my will-power to not look sideways at my husband while she told us that the Holy Spirit had filled the place, and people were barking like dogs and clucking like chickens. Strange fire, anyone?
I.am.not.making.this.up.
Here are the other nails:
Leg-lengthening: I won't even dignify this one with an explanation. Where in the Bible???
Shiver-quivers: Charismatics will tell you this is the Holy Spirit. I think the air conditioning is set too low. Where in the Bible???
Prophecy: The problem with prophecy today is that it so often is a 'new' word that can't be verified by Scripture. If we're willing to allow prophecy, we must be equally willing to test the message and discipline the messenger. To misspeak on God's behalf is not an experiment; it is blasphemy.
Slain in the Spirit: Let's be honest. The only Biblical account of being slain in the Spirit is Ananias and Sapphira. When people fell down in the presence of the Lord in the Bible, it was out of fear. God was not 'ministering' to them. And they certainly weren't hoping “to get me some more of that next week.” Where in the Bible???
“I just want to go where the Spirit is.” For years, I thought I had the Holy Spirit, and the rest of the Body only had access to two persons of the Trinity. I am so ashamed of my arrogance.
I am not a cessationist. I believe the gifts are for today. And I believe there is something very natural about them. I believe in prophecy IF it can be verified by the Word. I believe in miracles and healing. I believe in tongues, words of wisdom and knowledge, and discerning of spirits.
The problem is not the gifts. I think the Word is clear on that point. The problem is the packaging: the mystical, hyper-emotional, often hysterical and chaotic atmosphere that many charismatic churches allow. Do these things in any way reflect our Redeemer?
As believers, we must be willing to reform and conform to the Bible. I threw the baby out with the bathwater for years. But I'm finding the baby again. Thanks to men like CJ Mahaney and ministries like Sovereign Grace, I know there's a baby there.
Let's drain the tub--before the baby drowns.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Sleep
The Sleep
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–61)
OF all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward into souls afar,
Along the Psalmist’s music deep,
Now tell me if that any is
For gift or grace surpassing this—
“He giveth His beloved, sleep”?
What would we give to our beloved?
The hero’s heart to be unmoved,
The poet’s star-tun’d harp to sweep,
The patriot’s voice to teach and rouse,
The monarch’s crown to light the brows?—
He giveth His beloved, sleep.
What do we give to our beloved?
A little faith all undisproved,
A little dust to overweep,
nd bitter memories to make
The whole earth blasted for our sake:
He giveth His beloved, sleep.
“Sleep soft, beloved!” we sometimes say
Who have no tune to charm away
Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep:
But never doleful dream again
Shall break the happy slumber when
He giveth His beloved, sleep.
O earth, so full of dreary noises! 25
O men, with wailing in your voices!
O delved gold, the wailers heap!
O strife, O curse, that o’er it fall!
God strikes a silence through you all,
And giveth His beloved, sleep.
He dews drop mutely on the hill,
His cloud above it saileth still,
Though on its slope men sow and reap:
More softly than the dew is shed,
Or cloud is floated overhead,
He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Ay, men may wonder while they scan
A living, thinking, feeling man
Confirm’d in such a rest to keep;
But angels say, and through the word
I think their happy smile is heard—
“He giveth His beloved, sleep.”
For me, my heart that erst did go
Most like a tired child at a show,
That sees through tears the mummers leap,
Would now its wearied vision close,
Would childlike on His love repose
Who giveth His beloved, sleep.
And friends, dear friends, when it shall be
That this low breath is gone from me,
And round my bier ye come to weep,
Let One, most loving of you all,
Say, “Not a tear must o’er her fall!
He giveth His beloved, sleep.”